Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
I knew the sheets were going to be perfectly crisp except for the bit I lay on. I didn’t feel anybody climb into bed with me.
All I knew was that someone was in here, in the same room as me.
But was that someone . . . Luca? Has he been here from the beginning?
“Are you PuppetMaster?” I ask, shooting straight to the point.
Luca’s sitting in front of me, wearing an expression I can’t quite decipher. Half his face is covered in shadows, giving him an unnervingly sinister look.
He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt, as usual. Like stark white gallery walls, his simple outfit allows the artwork on his body to shine. Luca wears a white shirt and a pair of jeans most days, even if they invite stares from curious small-towners who don’t often see heavily tattooed men.
(He wears a different white shirt every day. I checked. He has a bunch of that same shirt in his wardrobe.)
Luca’s tattoos normally look like beautiful works of art. But now, they’re all kinds of crazy colors, their original greens and reds dyed by the yellow light.
His eyes, darker than usual, are the color of wet moss. He’s looking right at me, but his stare is vacant, like he’s not really seeing me.
Luca sighs. He’s scarily sober tonight—and not good-scary either (as in when a guy is obviously about to do me real hard), but the kind of scary that sinks heavily in my stomach and makes me sick.
“There is no PuppetMaster,” Luca says flatly.
“What do you mean? I chatted with someone online. Was that you? That was you, wasn’t it?” I ask question after question. In my head, even more questions pile up. But I have to give him a chance to speak if I want answers.
“Yes,” he says in his baritone voice.
He admits it!
What’s going on? Is this part of the role play? Are we still fucking? Do I want to do it with Luca?
I mean, he’s still the hottest, most irresistible bad boy in town, and I’m nothing if not a sucker for a guy like him: a damaged guy who looks like he can do some serious damage on me, too. Except I know Luca’s a sweetheart inside.
“So you are PuppetMaster?” I ask again.
“No.” Luca shakes his head slowly. “PuppetMaster doesn’t exist. It was just a name I came up with to get you to confess.”
“Confess to what?” I don’t know what he’s accusing me of, but I’m already offended.
“Confess that you have a problem.” Luca’s eyes meet mine.
“A problem with what?”
I swear, he’s making me want to kick him in the shin right now. Except I know he’ll easily overpower me.
On the other hand, he’s not going to really hit me back, and I may just enjoy being manhandled for a little bit. Perhaps it’s not such a bad idea after all . . .
“You’re addicted to danger,” Luca says with certainty.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, even as my heart pounds guiltily in my chest.
Luca cocks a dark eyebrow. “Going online to find a stranger to do anything he wants to you. No rules, no safe words. Does that sound like something a sane person would do?”
“Are you calling me crazy?” I raise my voice.
“No, you’re just an addict,” he says casually. “There’s no shame in it. I used to be one, too. That’s why Peter told me to keep an eye on you.”
“Okay. Firstly, I’m not an addict. I know it looks bad, but I don’t do this all the time. But we’ll get back to that later.” I lean forward on the bed and watch Luca closely. I want to hear what he has to say to my next question. “What exactly did Peter say?”
“A lot of things,” Luca says. “But the gist of it is, he’d been wrestling with addiction his whole life, and he knew you were at risk, too. So he wanted me to keep an eye on you after he was gone and make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”
“Jesus, Luca, for once in your life, tell me a complete story.” I usually find his calm, quiet demeanor sexy and mysterious, but right now it’s irritating. Looks like I’ll have to ask specific questions. “Why did my brother think I was at risk?”
“He told me about your underage drinking,” Luca says, seemingly unperturbed by my growing impatience.
“What underage drinking?” My guilty heart beats even faster.
“I don’t know if he told you this story. But one night, Peter woke up from one of his drunken stupors. He saw you picking up a bottle, filling up the flask he thought he’d lost, and sneaking back up to your room. That scared him enough to get sober.”
“So you and my brother used to sit around the campfire and talk about how everybody else was an addict too to make you feel better about yourselves?” I ask angrily as I bury my shame deep inside of me.